How This World Turns Cold (And Breaks Through My Soul)
by Ciara2531
Summary: "I just figured that after the day we've – you've – had, a couple drinks and some company might not be the worst thing in the world."


**A/N: So yeah, I tend to get on a roll when I start writing a new couple/for a new fandom. I'll pop out a couple of one shots to feel my way into the character's minds and figure out who I want my versions of them to be. I definitely will not be doing any multi chapter stories for this fandom anytime soon since I'm still trying to wrap up one of my Olicity fics (and god knows how long that will take at the rate I'm going). ****But Linstead have got a hold on me right now, that's for sure.**

**As for this particular story, I'm kind of fascinated by Halstead's military background and would love to see more about it on the show. This is me playing around with that.**

**Comments are more than welcome. Enjoy!**

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><p>"Hey, Halstead!" Platt barked. "You got a visitor."<p>

Halstead turned away from Lindsay, who'd been walking next to him to glance over at the desk sergeant. He followed her gaze across the room to a small, visibly pregnant, redhead standing in the corner.

"Something you want to share with the class, cowboy?" Lindsay smirked.

Halstead rolled his eyes at her.

"I've never seen her before," he said. "So no."

Nodding at the sergeant, he crossed over to the woman in a few short strides.

"Ma'am?" he asked. "I'm Detective Halstead. I heard you were looking for me?"

The woman looked up at him and now that he was closer, Halstead felt the first stirrings of recognition hit. Despite what he'd said to Lindsay a few moments ago, he _had_ seen this woman before, just never in person.

"You're Grace," Halstead said. "Declan's wife."

She nodded and gave him a shaky smile. Halstead registered her red eyes and the dark circles underneath them. She'd been crying, a lot by the looks of it, and probably not sleeping much. That quickly, the pieces fit into place and Halstead just _knew_.

"When?" he asked thickly.

"A few weeks ago," Grace said, fresh tears slipping down her face. "I wish I'd thought to have someone contact you but it wasn't until I found this…"

She reached into her pocket and pulled out an old, worn photograph. She pressed it into his hand.

Halstead glanced down at it. It was of him and Declan after they'd finished a game of basketball with a couple of the other guys in the battalion. It had been taken a few days before they came home. Halstead had opted out after that, chosen to join the police force but Declan had signed up for another tour.

And now he was dead.

"He loved you like a brother," Grace said. "I thought he'd want you to have it. And these too."

Halstead looked up and saw that she was holding Declan's tags.

He shook his head.

"You should keep those," he said.

"I want to hold onto all the things that remind me about his life," she said quietly. "About all the good times that I had with him."

She pressed the tags into his palm.

"These represent the love he had for the military," she said. "That was a bond the two of you shared. This is the right thing."

Halstead closed his eyes for a brief moment and then nodded.

"Thank you," he said.

"I wish we could have met sooner," Grace said. "Under better circumstances."

"Me too," Halstead agreed.

He paused.

"If you need anything," he began. "Or if there's ever anything I can do to help, call me, okay?"

"I'm moving back east," Grace said. "My parents live in Boston and with the baby…"

She sucked in a deep breath.

"It's as close as I can get to a fresh start," she said.

"Yeah," Halstead said. "I get that."

Impulsively, he leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Take care of yourself," he said.

"You do the same," she replied.

Halstead watched her walk out but even after she was gone, he made no move to turn and head upstairs.

He felt a small hand come to rest on his arm and knew without asking that Lindsay had been watching the whole time.

"If you need the day, I can clear it with Voight," she murmured.

"No," Halstead said. "We need all hands on deck for this case."

Lindsay studied her partner carefully. She hadn't overheard the conversation itself but Halstead's body language had told her everything she needed to know _before_ she saw the woman handing over military issue dog tags.

Whatever the details were, she knew that Halstead had just suffered a loss and as his partner, it was her job to help him through it.

"Okay," she answered quietly. "Just promise me one thing?"

"What?" he asked tightly.

"Don't shut me out," Lindsay said.

Halstead gave a jerky nod so Lindsay turned and led the way upstairs. The rest of the team was already there and Voight was standing next to the whiteboard.

"Nice of you two to make it up," he growled.

Lindsay narrowed her eyes at him and gave a slight shake of her head. She saw him glance over at Halstead and then back at her but he made no further comment.

"Craig Kincaid," Voight said, tapping the photograph he'd just stuck to the board. "He's our best shot at getting to the guys pulling the strings on this. So let's get out there and find him."

Fourteen hours and several dead ends later, Voight forced them all to pack it in for the night. Halstead was frustrated but he knew it wasn't just because they'd failed to get their guy today.

He'd been a ticking time bomb from the minute he slipped Declan's tags on under his shirt and tucked the photograph into his back pocket. He was pent up and spoiling for a fight or some other kind of emotional release.

Grabbing his jacket, he started down the stairs.

"Halstead, wait up," Lindsay called out, her footsteps quick as she raced to catch up to him. "I'm not letting you go home alone."

"I don't need a baby sitter," he said gruffly.

"I just figured that after the day we've – you've – had, a couple drinks and some company might not be the worst thing in the world," Lindsay said. "If I'm wrong and you really think being alone is the best thing, I'll back off."

Halstead sighed. He knew she was worried about him. She'd stuck close today, closer than normal and he appreciated it but he also knew his own track record.

"You asked me once how I handled it, as a solider," Halstead said. "And I told you I had a tendency to take it out on those who didn't deserve it. I don't want to do that to you."

"Okay," Lindsay said slowly.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Halstead replied.

He was almost at the bottom of the second staircase when Lindsay called out to him.

"Hey Halstead," she said.

He turned to look back at her.

"I'm sorry," Lindsay said.

His lips pressed together and his expression softened a little.

"Thanks," he said.

Lindsay shoved her hands in her pockets, mostly in an attempt to ground herself so that she wouldn't go after him. He'd made it clear that he wanted space tonight and she had to respect that.

Besides, if she was being honest with herself – and granted, that wasn't always her favorite thing to do – she knew that the urge to stay close to him was as much about her as it was about him. She knew he was hurting and if she couldn't _fix _it, she at least wanted the reassurance of trying to provide some kind of comfort.

Biting back a sigh, she headed for her car and drove home. She took a long, hot, shower to wash off the grime and grit of the day and then slipped into yoga pants and a purple cami. She had just started to contemplate the various take out menus on her fridge when there was a knock at her door.

She wasn't surprised to find Halstead on the other side but she was relieved. She'd really hated the idea of him going through this alone and briefly she wondered if this was how he felt all those times that he'd accused her of shutting him out.

"Declan Kyle Jameson," Halstead said, leaning in her doorway. "We did our Ranger training together at Fort Benning. The redhead this morning was his wife, Grace."

Lindsay stepped back so that he could come inside.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

"An IED explosion," Halstead said.

He'd reached out to a couple of the other Rangers that had served with him and Declan and the weight of those conversations was what had prompted him to seek Lindsay out. He knew that if he stayed in his apartment, alone with his thoughts, he'd be sliding down a dark rabbit hole in no time.

"You got scotch?" Halstead asked.

"Yeah," Lindsay said.

She nodded to the couch and then crossed to the kitchen for glasses and the bottle of scotch that sat on top of her refrigerator. Halstead was sitting on the couch, his head leaned back and his eyes closed when she settled next to him and poured them both a measure of alcohol.

She placed his glass in front of him but didn't say anything. The silence stretched for a while longer but Halstead finally lifted his head and looked at her.

"I never really understood why he kept going back," Halstead said quietly, reaching for the scotch and taking a sip. "That sounds awful, right? Unpatriotic? I mean, why wouldn't you choose to serve your country? There's honor in it."

"I can't imagine it's an easy choice," Lindsay said. "But you made it once."

"Yeah," Halstead agreed. "And I'm glad I did. I wouldn't be the man or the cop I am today if I hadn't been a Ranger first."

"But?" Lindsay prompted, sensing there was more.

"It was hell on earth over there, Linds," Halstead said. "And he had Grace and a baby on the way. He could have stayed."

Lindsay chose her words carefully.

"He didn't die because he was in a war zone, Jay," she said softly. "He died because he made a choice, the same one we make every day, to serve, to be part of something bigger and hopefully to make things better, whether it's at home or overseas."

Halstead tossed back the rest of his drink.

"You're right," he admitted. "I wish that helped more."

"What can I do?" Lindsay asked.

Her brows were knit together into a small frown and her hazel eyes were full of concern but there was more than that and Halstead knew that if they weren't careful, the line between them could get very seriously blurred.

But he didn't feel like being careful right now and he didn't have the energy to resist the pull he felt to her. This wasn't about them being partners or even being friends. It was about everything else that fell into the category of _oh definitely_;two words uttered so many months ago.

"Let me hold you," Halstead said. "Just that."

He could tell that he'd caught her a little off guard but she nodded and swung her legs up onto the couch so that she could scoot back, tucking herself against his side, and letting her head fall onto his chest.

He rested his chin on top of her head and let his arms wrap around her. Her hands settled over his and then she laced their fingers together.

"I got you," Lindsay murmured. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Halstead said, closing his eyes and breathing her in. "I do."


End file.
